


bring me back to you, in your arms I'm going to stay

by carrieevew



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama & Romance, Established Relationship, F/M, Inspired By Sense8, Long-Distance Relationship, Romantic Soulmates, Sexual Content, soulmate connection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:02:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29183703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrieevew/pseuds/carrieevew
Summary: Clarke and Bellamy have been best friends for years, they’ve been dating for a while as well and they understand each other without words—they’re soulmates, plain and simple. They share an unique bond that brought them together. And honestly, this is the happiest she’d ever been with a relationship.The only thing is, technically, they’ve never properly met.Technically, it’s all happening inside their heads.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 34
Kudos: 184
Collections: The t100 Writers for BLM Initiative





	bring me back to you, in your arms I'm going to stay

**Author's Note:**

> written for a prompt submitted through the t100 fic for Black Lives Matter initiative. for more information about the project, visit [our carrd](https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co/) or [our tumblr](https://t100fic-for-blm.tumblr.com/).
> 
> title from "[Across the Universe of Time](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zucZ5LEuTcI) by Hayley Westenra 
> 
> enjoy!

Clarke dug her freshly-manicured nails into the palms of her hands and pressed her lips into a tight smile, nodding as professor Wallace droned about some new edgy (verging on eugenics, in Clarke’s opinion) project his son was working on.

She kept her eyes trained on Wallace’s forehead, doing all she could not to close them and start moaning when Bellamy stopped kissing up and down her neck and moved on to sucking at her pulse point. His hands wrapped around her middle, fingers splayed over her ribs, his fingers only barely brushing her left breast—and driving her completely insane.

In moments like these, she almost hated the fact that she was the only one who could see him.

 _Almost_ , because no matter how embarrassing it would be if she started whining in front of her old biology professor and a couple of her hospital’s board members, she couldn’t really deny herself the pleasure of Bellamy’s touch.

Still, when he took her earlobe into his mouth and tugged, causing her to gasp in surprise, Clarke figured it was time for a break.

“Excuse me,” she muttered to her company and waved her clutch awkwardly, digging for her phone. “I have to take this.”

She walked away from Wallace and the board members whose name she couldn’t remember on a good day, shooting Bellamy a glare.

“Seriously?!” she hissed at him, nostrils flaring when she saw him grinning like a kid who just got away with eating candy before dinner.

Clarke retreated to the corner of the ballroom and pressed the phone against her ear. “Do you really have to do this _now_?” she said a little louder, now that she wouldn’t look like she was talking to herself.

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. “Did you not enjoy yourself?” he asked with faux innocence and that cocky grin of his that Clarke absolutely hated ( _loved_ ).

“That’s not the point,” she countered, only just stopping herself from stomping her foot. “This is a _work_ benefit, Bell. How am I supposed to explain squirming and fidgeting like that to my boss?!”

Bellamy crossed his arms over his chest and Clarke had to focus really hard on not getting distracted by the fact that he didn’t have a shirt on.

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that when you decided to drop in on my lecture in skimpy lingerie and sit down in the front row?” he challenged. “I’m pretty sure that was the only lecture I ever gave sitting down the whole time.”

Clarke closed her eyes and scrunched her nose. Right, _that_. He did promise that he’d get her for that stunt.

But how could she not show off that new powder pink set that barely covered anything, even after she remembered that he had a change of schedule and wouldn’t be free at the time.

Bellamy stepped forward and put his hand gently on her cheek. She nuzzled against his palm, the familiar current buzzing underneath her skin. She could never tell if that was something that happened between all soulmates or if it was just Bellamy but that feeling was almost addictive.

Still, she was technically working – the annual charity gala hosted by the hospital she worked at was a big deal and no matter how uncomfortable it made her feel, she had to spend the night schmoozing up to potential donors. Her half-imaginary boyfriend would just have to deal with it.

“Okay,” she finally said, opening her eyes. “Can we at least call a temporary truce? The auction starts in half an hour and then, you can do whatever the hell you want,” she promised and Bellamy’s eyes lit up with a dangerous glint.

“Fine,” he agreed and just like that, he was gone—only to reappear a moment later, unfortunately wearing a shirt. “I’m still gonna stay and bother you,” he said with a smirk.

Clarke snorted loudly, very grateful for the phone still in her hand when a couple of people nearby looked at her with raised eyebrows.

“Just behave,” she insisted and made a show of disconnecting the phone call.

She re-joined the crowd, Bellamy at her side, one arm wrapped around her middle, that current tickling at the sensitive skin of her elbow where his fingers were bushing against.

Doctor Cartwig, her attending, called her in to introduced her to some pharmaceutical big wigs. Clarke listened to them as best as she could but when Bellamy’s free hand wrapped around her wrist and he practically enveloped her in his arms, she could only just pay attention to them. Instead, she couldn’t help imagine how it would be like if Bellamy could actually be there with her, in the flesh instead of in the corner of her eye.

But that’s how it’s always been between them—thousands and thousands of miles between them and that inexplicable bond that brought them together. Her soulmate.

It took longer than half an hour for the auction to begin and give Clarke an opportunity to sneak out. They all had to listen to Jaha go on and on about the event and thank everyone three times before the auctioneer came onto the stage. By then, Clarke was already moving her weight from one foot to the other and when the lights dimmed and the music swelled, she found herself dragging Bellamy towards the exit.

When they finally reached the service corridor, Bellamy took her face in his hands and pressed a searing kiss to her lips. Clarke gasped into his mouth, allowing him entrance. In a few steps, he had her pressed against the wall, one of his hands now on her waist, pulling her to him.

“I take it you _really_ didn’t hate it, then,” Bellamy teased, kissing down her face and neck, nudging the strap of her dress with his nose.

Clarke tugged at his hair in retaliation but it backfired when he nipped at the skin of her shoulder with his teeth, ripping a high-pitched gasped from her.

“You _know_ I didn’t,” she countered, fingers tangling in his long, silky curls. Before she even noticed, Bellamy’s hands were on her back, deft fingers working on the hidden zipper of her dress.

Clarke dropped her hands to his waist and started tugging at the hem of Bellamy’s shirt, her fingernails scratching lightly at the skin of his lower abdomen in a way she knew would drive him nuts.

A sudden noise of a door slamming shut not for away from them snapped Clarke out of the haze for long enough that she was able to spot a nearby storage closet and drag Bellamy inside before he finally unzipped her dress and tugged it off her shoulders, revealing a strapless bra underneath.

Bellamy let out a strangled whine and dropped his head to her chest, kissing the tops of her breasts, one finger hooking at the cup, dragging the material down to reveal her nipple. Clarke hissed when his mouth closed around it, the tip of his tongue teasing the bud.

Blood rushed to her ears when Bellamy sucked on her nipple and without preamble, Clarke dipped her hand into his loose sweats, grinning to herself when she found him without underwear and already half-hard.

Bellamy released her nipple, his hand taking the place of his mouth but before he could move to her other breast, Clarke wrapped her hand around him and tugged lightly. Bellamy dropped his head to her shoulder, all but growling against her skin.

“Clarke,” he said into the crook of her neck and it took all her will not to explode right then and there. Her skin was tingling everywhere and when Bellamy ran the pads of his fingers down her spine, a trail of fire followed.

“Don’t mess the hair too much,” Clarke joked when Bellamy took the dress off of her completely and it pooled at her feet, leaving her in nothing but her lacy underwear and insanely high heels.

For a split second, she wondered if anyone could even see that there was anything wrong with her hair if the damage was done by someone only there in spirit and it was her last coherent thought for a long while.

***

Clarke had never been one to believe in soulmates.

When she was little, the stories of waiting and searching for that one person sounded like fun but the older she got, the more disillusioned she became.

Sure, there were fairy tales told all over the world and testimonies from people who swore they’d found theirs but to Clarke, that was hardly concrete evidence. There were studies conducted and various books written about it but she’d always treated it a little bit like aliens—she never claimed that soulmates weren’t real but since she’d never actually met anyone who had one, she chose to remain sceptical. Especially consider her mother was a trauma surgeon who operated on one too many people hurt by their “soulmate” who claimed that it was just how their sacred relationship worked.

For the longest time, Clarke thought soulmates were, at best, an excuse for when someone’s ‘regular’ relationship didn’t work and they didn’t want to admit that they just didn’t work on it enough.

And then her father died.

Clarke was 17 when Abby skidded off an icy stretch of road and drove herself and Jake straight into a tree. When she’d arrived at the hospital, her mother was in surgery and her father was dying, hooked up to machines breathing for him, waiting for Abby to recover and make a decision. Clarke was pretty sure that the only reason why she’d been allowed to stay at Jake’s side for the whole night was because everyone knew the Griffins there and their hearts went up to her.

It was some time in the middle of the night when Clarke, at the edge of exhaustion, saw a man in the corner of her eye. Older than her, with inky hair and dark eyes, about as surprised to see her as she was to see him. She blinked, convinced she’d just imagined him—after all, she could’ve sworn he was the same boy she’d been dreaming about since she could remember.

But when Clarke opened her eyes, the man was still there. He walked over to her side, pulled up the other chair and sat down without a word, painful understanding in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly and with that, Clarke burst into tears, burying her head into his chest when he pulled her in for a hug.

He’d held her close until a nurse came in and announced that Abby was out of surgery and in recovery, and Clarke rushed out of the room, leaving the man behind, somehow calm about not leaving her father alone.

It wasn’t until she’d learnt that her mother would be okay and she returned to Jake’s room, where that man still waited, that she finally realised that he really was there—even if she was the only one who could see him.

Over the next few hours, she’d learnt that his name was Bellamy, he was 23, lived on the other side of the country and appeared in the hospital when he felt the strange pull that made him think that his heart was actually breaking.

As it turned out, he was much more receptive to the concept of soulmates and had actually done some researched, prompted by his mother’s claim that his late father was her soulmate and when he died, it was as if her heart had been ripped out of her chest and nothing felt alive and vibrant ever again.

Apparently, it wasn’t unusual for soulmates to share a bond so strong that in times of heightened emotions, one was actually able to project the other and for all intents and purposes, they were are real to each other as if they were actually together.

Clarke listened to his lecture until the morning broke and Abby’s doctor came by to say that her mother was awake and asking for her. And then, the decision was made quickly—Jake was gone and he wouldn’t have wanted to be kept alive artificially, not when he could still help someone with organ donation.

Bellamy stayed at Clarke’s side though it all—when she came back to her father’s room to say goodbye, when they wheeled him out and then hours later, when the doctors told Clarke that the procedures had been scheduled. And he’s stayed by her side ever since. They even learnt to control this bond they had and to see each other at will.

It had taken them years to actually get together. First because Bellamy was too good of a man to even think about the subject while she was still under-aged, no matter how huge her crush on his was and later, because she was apprehensive about starting a relationship with someone who, in some way, only existed in her mind. It felt safer to never try than fuck up with her best friend who meant the world to her.

Clarke tried relationships with other people and encouraged Bellamy to do the same but in the end, they always came back to each other and after nearly a decade of dropping on each other whenever and wherever, they finally decided to give it a try.

And honestly, those two years together have been the best and most frustrating thing that’s ever happened to her.

Being with Bellamy felt like nothing ever did, like _no-one_ ever before. Every time they touched, her skin burned and all her senses sharpened. It was like she could feel herself through him and he could feel her the same way. It was an indescribable sense of near-ecstasy and if someone had told her about it before, she wouldn’t have believed it.

There was no way that anyone else could fit her like Bellamy did. He was stubborn, head-strong and loved to rile her up, and even if she tried, she couldn’t have dreamt him to be better. And it terrified her still.

Not because she ever doubted his own affection—she could feel his love for her every time he kissed her, caressed her and pressed inside her; every time he looked her in the eye and she saw the love and desire matching her own.

They bickered and they argued, about everything from the movie they were about to watch to Bellamy finally taking the plunged and spending the money he’d been saving up for Octavia’s college on his own education, when his sister announced that she had no desire to stay in school any longer than it was absolutely necessary.

Even if one left, the other always knew they’d be back without ever having to ask. There was a sense a permanence and certainty about their relationship and for all that Clarke had no doubt that she’d want him for the rest of her life, she was also scared of how she’d manage if she ever lost him.

Her mother took it hard, when Jake died and later, when her second husband passed away, she completely broke down and it took years for her to recover. Clarke watched it helplessly, unable to do anything to alleviate her pain, and struggling not to imagine herself in a similar situation.

And it didn’t exactly help that for the last five years, Bellamy lived in Rome, where he taught at a university ever since he got his PhD in history. It’s been a huge accomplishment for him and Clarke supported him when he struggled to leave his sister and move to Italy but they both knew that it only complicated things for them.

Between his classes, her hectic schedule as a surgical resident and the time difference, it wasn’t just hard for them to make time together – it made _actually_ seeing each other impossible. And so, despite twelve years of knowing and loving Bellamy, Clarke had never really met him, not outside of her own head. She’d never seen him, heard him or touched him, and every time she drew him, there was a thought at the back of her head if that was really what he looked like or if she’d just imagined him.

Clarke longed to touch the real Bellamy for the very first time and being unable to do so was slowly driving her out of her mind.

***

Bellamy’s Christmas tree was, quite frankly, a little pathetic. But seeing how he was spending most of his free time at Clarke’s, it wasn’t exactly surprising that he couldn’t have been bothered to decorate.

But then on Christmas morning, when Clarke appeared in his flat, she’d found the place decked out with all kinds of lights and trinkets, and it made her tear up. Bellamy must’ve only just woken up when she felt the tug and jumped over because he wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen, leaving Clarke alone to admire his work.

It was all a little mismatched and clearly put together in a haste but so were their plans for Clarke to come to Rome instead of visiting her mother, who announced that she wouldn’t even be home this year at the last minute. Clarke tried not to get too anxious about the fact that her mother was so secretive again but it was pretty much in vain.

No matter how hard Abby tried to hide it, Clarke knew that her mother had been trying to deal with Kane’s passing with the help of various medications and no matter how many times Clarke tried to talked to Abby about it, her mother always claimed to have things under control—and Clarke tried to believe her. Still, hearing that Abby was going on a trip with some friends that her daughter had never even met before didn’t exactly put Clarke at ease.

Bellamy knew it, of course. He felt how on edge she was about the whole thing, so he came up with the idea of her coming over for Christmas. With the time difference and a minor miracle of her not being put on-call for the holidays, it gave them three days that Clarke could’ve spent with him in Italy non-stop. And even if, by some freak chance, she didn’t want to be with Bellamy for Christmas, there was no way she could’ve resisted the amazing view from his window.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around Clarke’s waist, pulling her out of her musings.

Bellamy’s hands dove underneath the thick sweater she was wearing and teased the waistband of her underwear—the only other thing she had on.

“Merry Christmas,” he muttered into her ear, voice still thick from sleep. His breath tickled the soft skin of Clarke’s neck and she felt a warmth spread in her belly, right where his fingers teased her skin.

She moaned loudly when his fingers dipped below the delicate lace and his hand cupped her mound. Clarke dropped her head back, onto his shoulder. Bellamy placed kiss after kiss against her neck, shoulder, cheek, while his fingers moved lower, closer the where she wanted him most. He growled into the crook of her neck and nipped at the skin with his teeth when he felt how wet she already was.

Bellamy rubbed small circles into her soft, smooth skin and Clarke’s mouth opened when his middle finger—

The shrill ringing broke them out of their mood.

Bellamy dropped his head to her shoulder with an irritated groan. His hands rested on his waist for a moment before he ripped himself away from Clarke and went looking for his phone, swearing all the way.

Clarke readjusted her sweater and moved to the couch, snickering to herself when she heard Bellamy say something in Italian, impatience clear in his voice. He’d been trying to teach her some of the language over the years, having taken to it like duck to water himself, but alas, their soulmate connection was no help and she was useless at it. She had no idea what he was saying then but just the sound of his voice was enough to put her at ease.

She leaned back against the cushions and closed her eyes, breathing deeply. Her schedule had been insane lately and all she wanted to do was burrow herself into Bellamy side and stay there for however long she could.

Bellamy returned to the living room with his phone in hand. He tossed it onto the coffee table and when the screen lit up, Clarke noticed he had a picture of her there. It was one from Halloween and she was wearing an assortment of spooky accessories. It was the night she’d spent helping out in the ER when half of the kids from a nearby community centre showed up with suspected food poisoning. To help them relax, Clarke agreed to let them put as many things on her as they could and then took a pic to show Bellamy before she had to take it all off and go back to work.

She smiled to herself when she saw it, delighted that he chose to put her picture on his phone.

“Sorry about that,” Bellamy said, sitting down next to her. Automatically, her too her hand in his and she shifted, pulling her legs up and throwing them into his lap. His other hand landed on her knee, his fingers drawing patterns over the skin mindlessly.

“It was one of the professors from my department,” he explained. “Ever since she heard that I’m staying here for the holidays, she’d been trying to convince me to come by her place for dinner tonight.”

“Aw, are you being hit on?” Clarke teased, poking at his side with her fingers.

Bellamy snorted. “I really hope not! She reminds me of my grandmother, I think it might make things awkward between us,” he answered and in retaliation, he tickled the soft skin on backs of her knees. Clarke flinched, throwing her legs up and nearly kicking him in the jaw.

Bellamy caught her in time, his hands wrapping around the naked skin of her thighs, sending sparks to Clarke’s core. She squirmed in her spot, all but ready to climb into his lap but the serious expression that appeared on Bellamy’s face stopped her in her tracks. She froze and frowned, putting one of her hands over his.

“I wish I could just tell her that my girlfriend came by for the holidays but then she’d just want me to bring you by as well,” he continued, not looking at Clarke but at their joined hands instead. “And I really wish I could do _that_ , too, you know?”

Clarke sighed and shifted, so she could press her lips against his in a soft kiss. She was practically folded in half in his lap and it was hardly comfortable but it didn’t matter. Because of course she knew.

As close as she and Bellamy were, had always been, there were literally thousands of miles of physical distance between them, making this the strangest long-distance relationship.

She supposed it made sense way back when – to have your soulmate be able to reach out from whatever faraway place they were in. But in the age of phones and social media, a boyfriend that never even once made an appearance in some of her feeds might as well not exist.

They didn’t have long text threads or follow each other of instagram. There was no need to use technology when all they needed to do to be with each other was pop by. Hell, the only reason why they even exchanged phone numbers was because when Bellamy finally went to college, his school needed an emergency contact and he decided Clarke was a better choice than his sister.

But that all meant that none of their friends could ever appreciate how serious their relationship really was. Not when they both skirted around the subject as much as possible, wary not to reveal to anyone that they were soulmates. It was better not to tell anyone that she was seeing someone who wasn’t really there but because of that, no-one knew the truth. To all her friends, Bellamy was just a guy she’d known most of her life and she couldn’t help the feeling that whenever she mentioned him, they were all slightly surprised they were still dating and probably assumed that they just forgot to break up out of habit—after all, they never visited each other, never called, never planned elaborate skype dates.

Clarke wrapped her arms around Bellamy’s elbow and pressed herself even closer into his side. Bellamy placed a soft kiss to the crown of her head and she could feel deep inside that he was thinking the same thing.

She looked to the side and her gaze caught on his discarded phone.

“I wish we could have even one picture _together_ ,” she muttered without thinking. Bellamy exhaled loudly and put his hand on her cheek, bring her face up to look at him.

“This isn’t forever, Clarke,” he said quietly and smiled weakly.

The corner of Clarke’s mouth twitched upwards in response and she kissed him again, longer this time. When they detached, Bellamy manoeuvred her over his lap and with her legs bracketing his thighs, he moved them around so that she was on her back and Bellamy hovered over her, bracing on his elbows.

Clarke wrapped her legs around his middle and dug her heels into his ass, pulling him on top of her. Bellamy grabbed the hem of her sweater, pulling it up inch by inch, kissing her breathless as he went along. When he reached her naked breast, nipples hardening the moment they were exposed, Bellamy moved his head to kiss each one.

Her head was spinning with pleasure and desire and for a moment, Clarke forgot about the utter paradox of their relationship—about how could he possibly be so far away when she could feel him so close.

***

On New Year’s Eve, Clarke was back in Rome. She had a night shift to get to, so she couldn’t stay till morning but before she had to leave, Bellamy had planned a wonderful evening for them. He’d taken her for a long walk around the city, around many of the landmarks, now lit up beautifully. They walked for hours, hand in hand, and thanks to the cheap hands-free set Bellamy had bought when he first took her out, they were able to talk the whole way.

Bellamy had given her many a lecture about Rome before. Since he moved there, they were going out to museums and galleries as often as possible, for once glad that Clarke wasn’t there to pay for the ticket, but there was something different about doing it that night. Thanks to all those happy-drunk people they were passing, the music and lights, there was just something in the air that made it all just—perfect.

It was an amazing evening and Clarke couldn’t imagine the night going any better but still, back at Bellamy’s place, when the midnight struck and they kissed to celebrate the New Year, the only wish Clarke she think of was for a way for them to finally be together for real.

***

“What about that nice new doctor at your hospital? Kevin?” Abby asked, taking a delicate sip of her coffee. She put the cup down and leaned back in her chair, sending her daughter a knowing look.

“Cillian,” Clarke corrected with a forced smile. Not that she was surprised her mother was trying to find her a date again. Valentine’s Day was coming after all.

Of all the people in her life, Abby knew the least about Bellamy. While most of Clarke’s friends took her story about their relationship at face value, there was no way it would’ve worked with her mother. There was no way to tell her Clarke had a boyfriend and find a good explanation why he’d never once come to visit and meet the family. To her, Bellamy was simply a friend Clarke had met in college and they stayed in touch and grew close. And that all meant that whenever she and her mother met, Abby made varyingly veiled comments about her daughter’s love life.

And for some reason, this time around, she seemed especially determined to make Clarke go one a proper date. Once they went through all the people in her life that Abby knew about and thought to be single, she had moved on to even the most casual acquaintances.

Like the doctor who joined their staff recently. The one who just happened to be at the same benefit that Abby came to and chose that moment to ask Clarke to dance. She agreed politely and even said yes when he asked her for a coffee later, saying he didn’t know anyone in town and wanted to get to know her better.

Well, clearly Clarke should’ve listened to Harper, who claimed that Clarke had lost her touch because she never realised that the guy had meant for it to be a date—not until he tried to kiss her at the end of it. It was a little awkward for them, after Clarke did her best to reject him as gently as possible but they moved on from it. She just wished that so did Abby.

“Mum, Cillian and I are just friends,” Clarke explained slowly.

It’s become a familiar dance for the two of them, ever since Clarke got together with Bellamy. Only lately, it wasn’t just Abby who poked and prodded her to put some more ‘life’ into her love life. After Harper got pregnant and Murphy finally proposed to Emori, it became all the more apparent that Clarke was the odd woman out in their little group—and she couldn’t help the thought that they were all starting to think that she just invented her boyfriend and just picked a random picture of a hoy guy to show them.

Their concern was touching, it really was. But every once in a while, it made Clarke wanna scream. She was far from lonely and unloved—but per her own design, she couldn’t explain it all to them. Every time she thought about doing it, she would remember the horror stories that no soulmate enthusiast ever talked about – the brutal experiments conducted on people who claimed to share the bond, the persecution brought by the belief that it was all devil’s work.

For every fairy tale that spoke of two souls finding each other, there were two more about the atrocities committed in order to study and-slash-or eradicate the phenomenon. So, no matter how much Clarke would’ve loved to shout her love for Bellamy from the rooftops, she still chose to stay quiet. No way she’d ever risk his life and well-being just to get her mother off her back.

Alas, that still left her with Abby trying to play a matchmaker.

“—you’re not getting any younger, darling. And it’s been so long since I’ve seen you with someone you were serious about.”

Clarke blinked, realising she’d tuned her mother’s voice out. She cleared her throat and put down the spoon that she’d been spinning mindlessly in her coffee, no doubt scraping the varnish off of the bottom of the cup.

“When I was your age, I was already married and raising you,” Abby said pointedly and Clarke had to bite her tongue to stop herself from snorting.

She loved her mother, really. It’ just—

Sure, she _had_ Clarke but Abby was hardly ever raising. Between her job at the hospital, her various projects and her budding career with the city, it was Jake who took care of all things Clarke-related. From school plays and parent-teacher conferences to first dates, it was him who had his finger on the pulse of his daughter’s life.

Not that it mattered now.

Clarke sighed. “Mum, look. I promise you, I’m fine.”

Abby raised one perfectly-sculpted eyebrow and pursed her lips. Clarke rolled her eyes.

“I have a date, okay?!” she threw it out in a shrill voice, slapping her thigh.

Both of Abby’s eyebrows were up now and she seemed somewhat stunned. Clarke took it as a victory and changed a subject.

Well, _technically_ , it wasn’t even a lie.

***

Clarke lit up the candles and readjusted her dress. It wasn’t the most comfortable but then, she didn’t exactly plan on keeping it on too long. She smiled to herself.

The intercom buzzed when Clarke was pouring herself a glass of wine and it surprised her so much that she nearly dropped the bottle. She swore under her breath but left the kitchen and answered the call.

A few moments later, she opened the door and froze when she saw the delivery man carrying a bouquet a red roses so big that Clarke could barely see him from behind them. She took them, lips stretching into a goofy smile, and nodded a thanks. The guy tipped his hat and walked away but Clarke was still standing in the doorway, staring at the flowers.

It’s not that Bellamy had never given her a gift because of course he had. They’d been sending each other presents for as long as they’d known each other and with them practically living in each other’s heads, those were always a perfect fit.

But the roses, though—

As statistically improbable as it might sound, Clarke had never celebrated Valentine’s Day with a significant other. None of her relationships ever lasted lost enough for them to reach that holiday and then, it took Clarke a while to admit to herself that it was largely because no matter how much she might’ve cared about her partners, ultimately she’d much rather spend her time with Bellamy, Valentine’s Day notwithstanding.

Even when they finally got together, it was after Bellamy had told her he’d been invited to a party on Valentine’s Day and it was the idea of him meeting someone there that finally broke her resolve not to risk their relationship. That was the night that Clarke finally realised that being with Bellamy was worth every risk and kissed him—and discovered that while his casual touch made her skin tingle, having him inside her made her burn from the inside out in the most delicious of ways.

For the longest time, it didn’t matter to her that she’d never gone on an over-the-top Valentine’s Day date, that no-one had hired a horse-drawn carriage to ferry them around town or given her an inappropriate gift. And even with Bellamy, it was simply one other thing they couldn’t do together.

Still, after that brunch she had with her mother a few day back, Clarke blurted to Bellamy how just once, she wanted to do something cheesy and ‘traditional’. She never expected him to remember that, though. Finals had been kicking his ass and between supervising, grading and emailing with his students begging for extensions, she was only able to see Bellamy for a few moments every day and for the most part, he was practically falling asleep standing up.

Clarke didn’t think he even registered what she’d said and yet here she was, carrying a ridiculously huge bouquet of roses.

She felt the pull tugging at her spine and turned around. Bellamy was already there, standing in the middle of her living room in a crisp white button down and slacks, looking at her with a grin.

Clarke put down the flowers and skipped over to Bellamy. She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his in a searing kiss. Immediately, he hugged her tightly against his own body and opened up his mouth to grant her access. Clarke licked his bottom lip before tugging on it with his teeth, just as she knew he liked it. Bellamy growled against her and they were both practically vibrating. She could feel his own desire flood her whole body, sending chills down her spine.

Clarke gasped when she felt Bellamy’s hands slip from her back and settling over her ass. His fingers dipped under the hem of her tight dress and pulled the skirt up until it was bunched up over her waist and her practically naked skin was revealed. Bellamy caressed her sides, her thighs, purposefully avoiding the one place she needed him the most.

To urge him on, she wrapped one of her legs around one of his and slowly moved it upwards, pressing herself closed to him, practically grinding against him. It was a precarious position, given the height of the stilettoes was wearing but she trusted Bellamy to never let go of her.

Soon, their kissed turned dirty, their breathing heavy and she could feel how hard he was against her lower belly. Clarke grinned against his lips, slick with their saliva, and started unbuttoning his shirt slowly. Every inch of skin she revealed, she kissed. Clarke revelled in the way he was panting above her and when her lips finally reached his sternum, Bellamy snapped.

He hooked his hand around the leg wrapped around his thigh and yanked it up, up to his waist. Clarke moaned when the air rushed around them and she felt it against her wet cunt, barely covered with a tiny piece of lace.

In a blink of an eye, Bellamy’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of her ass, giving her the signal to jump into his arms. Clarke wrapped both her legs around his middle and rubber herself against his hard cock, her head spinning from the sensation brought by the material of his trousers and the way her heart was pounding against his chest—and she could’ve sworn she could feel his heart pumping against her own skin.

Bellamy swore, filthy, and kissed her again, more teeth than anything else, but it seemed to clear the fog from her head enough for Clarke to tug at his hair. Bellamy’s head followed her hand easily, throat exposed to her. Clarke sucked at his pulse point.

She felt his hand move against her thighs, igniting her blood. Then, he interlocked his fingers together and rested his joined hands underneath her bottom to keep her steady. Clarke put her cheek over his shoulder and pressed soft kissed against his neck while her carried her to the bedroom.

After, Clarke put her chin to his sternum, draped her arm over Bellamy’s stomach and started drawing mindless patterns onto his skin. She connected the freckles over his ribs, fingers skimming over the jagged scar tissue on his side. He’d fallen off a bike when he was a kid and landed on a sharp rock so unfortunately that it ripped through his skin, the wound serious enough to require stitches. And as crazy as that might be, Clarke remembered that pain, too. She didn’t understand it then, her mother couldn’t diagnose it but her side hurt for a good chunk of time and it wasn’t until Bellamy had told her about it, that she finally figured it out. It always astonished her, the depths of their bond.

“Thank you for the flowers,” Clarke murmured and pressed a soft kiss over his heart. Bellamy hummed, satisfied, his fingers brushing through her tangled her.

“You’re welcome,’ he grinned. They held their gaze for a moment, until he took a deep breath and his brow furrowed.

“I checked with the department yesterday, they won’t give me time off next month,” he said with a huff. “The guy who would’ve covered for me needed to have some emergency procedure and I’ll be taking his classes instead.”

He put his free hand over his forehead and ran in through his hair, frustrated enough not to care when they snagged on a knot. Clarke’s hand stopped wandering and she tightened her grip over his side, hoping that the disappointment wasn’t too visible on her face.

A couple of weeks back, she broached a subject of a possible visit with Bellamy. There was no way she could have the time to go to Italy but there was a chance that maybe Bellamy could come by—for the first time in years, he wasn’t teaching any classes over the summer, so his spring was supposed to be a little more flexible.

Clarke tried not to get her hopes up but she failed miserably. The very idea of him coming for a visit, even for a few days, was too much for her not to start freaking out a little bit every time she thought about it. But apparently, that all fell through after all.

“It’s alright,” she mumbled, averting her eyes. But Bellamy knew her. He squeezed her side with one of his hands, the other coming up to her face. He guided her to look back at him and in his eyes, she saw her own disappointment reflected.

“It kinda isn’t, though; is it?” he countered with a crooked smile.

Clarke shook her head slightly and blew a raspberry against the skin of Bellamy’s stomach. At least the strangled shriek he let out at that put a small smile back onto her face.

She drummed her fingers over Bellamy’s side and looked back up at him. Her skin was still crackling everywhere they were touching and she couldn’t help the thought that even if he did manage to come, there was no way that a short trip like that would ever be enough for them.

***

Clarke was dozing off, tucked into Bellamy’s side, when her phone rang.

They were sitting on a lounge chair he dragged out onto his balcony, wrapped in a blanket, taking advantage of the first spring days in Rome and Clarke was trying to get some rest before her night shift. When she heard her mother’s ringtone, she stirred and started stretching.

She opened her eyes, trying to locate her phone and just like that, the Italian sunset was gone and they were back in her cold flat in Chicago.

Bellamy grumbled something about calling her super himself, to get him to fix the heat, and Clarke rolled her eyes, climbing over him to the end table, where she finally located the screaming phone.

She picked it up on the last ring and got up, hoping to wake up enough to hold a coherent conversation with her mother. She yawned into her hand before saying hello and it didn’t escape Abby’s attention.

“Are you still in bed?” she scolded with a huff.

Clarke blew a huff and rubbed her hand over her eyes. “No, I’m just a little groggy.”

Abby clicked her tongue. “I’ve been telling you this your whole life, you need a more regular rhythm, honey, or you’ll never be well-rested.”

“Mum, I’m a surgical resident, any sleep schedule is a song of the past,” Clarke huffed and plopped down onto an armchair, opposite of Bellamy. She smiled, when she saw him leafing through a book he’d find on a coffee table. Clarke congratulated herself mentally on a choice well made, seeing how she’d bought it mostly thinking of him. She made a note to send it to him when she was done and then it registered, that her mother was still talking to her.

Clarke shook her head and focused back on the phone call, her mother explaining to her that especially in her current situation, she needed set proper habits.

“Yes, mum, I know,” she conceded Abby’s arguments. “But I assume you didn’t call me to discuss how well I’m sleeping, so—“ she prompted.

Abby gasped into the phone and a small giggle escaped her. Clarke’s eyebrow shot up. She had never once heard her mother make that noise sober. Hell, even drunk she wasn’t quite giddy.

“Ah, of course, darling! I wanted to tell you something!” Abby exclaimed. “I met someone. A man.”

Clarke’s mouth opened with a sound.

“His name is Russell, he’s running an investment company and he’s oh, so charming,” Abby listed off in a dreamy voice. Clarke straightened up in her seat, an alarm bell going off in her head.

She hadn’t heard her mother like that in quite some time, not since shortly after Kane’s death, when Clarke first noticed changes to her mother’s behaviour that seemed too drastic to be anything else than chemically-induced. That was the first time she tried talking to her about it, the first time that Abby denied anything and since then, she must’ve figured out how to hide her habits better because her behaviour went more-or-less back to normal.

Until now, when she was suddenly back to giggling like a teenaged girl who’d just been asked to prom.

“Uhm, how—where did you meet him?” she asked, voice unsteady.

“Do you remember Diana, from the city council? She organised a little get-together around Valentine’s Day, invited single people our age and there he was. He’s a widower, you know? He understands it,” Abby went on. Clarke’s heart ached for her mother and with all her will, she wanted to be happy for her. But this Russell, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something about him didn’t sound quite right. The fact that he was a friend of Diana Sydney didn’t exactly inspire confidence, either. Not when Diana had only just managed to shake the stench of the fraud charges hanging over her head throughout most of her past political career.

Clarke nodded her head, more to herself than anyone else, processing.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “What else do you know about him? Where is he from? Does he have any kids?” Clarke implored but Abby just made an annoyed huff.

“I know that he’s interested, Clarke,” she shot back shortly. “At my age, that doesn’t happen very often.”

“Mum, that’s not—“ Clarke exhaled. Her mother was irritated now, that was obvious. And that meant she would get defensive. They just needed to meet. And Clarke needed to meet _Russell_.

“All I meant was, I’d like to know more about him, if he makes you happy,” she tried again.

Abby stayed silent for a beat and when she spoke again, it seemed that some of the smile was back in her voice.

“Okay, honey. How about we all go out for dinner?” her mother proposed. Clarke let out a breath she must’ve been holding for a while, her head spinning from the new information.

She agreed to the dinner and said goodbye to her mother. And when she put her phone down, Bellamy was looking at her with a curious expression on his face.

“So, did I hear it correctly? You’re mother’s got a boyfriend?” he asked, mouth curling into a small grin.

Clarke shook her head, her own lips pressed into a thin line.

“Apparently,” she answered, nostrils flaring. She got up from her seat and started pacing around the room, thinking. She never even found out what was that man’s last name. Did her mother know? Had she really only just met Russell or if maybe, he was orbiting Diana before and they simply—

“Hey, Clarke, what’s going on?” Bellamy stood in front of her, hands on her elbows, stopping her mid-thought. Never one to miss a change in her mood, he too was frowning now, no longer amused.

Clarke let her head fall forward, her forehead landing on Bellamy’s shoulder. She breathed in, taking comfort in his familiar, beloved scent.

“I don’t know what to think,” she mumbled into his collar.

Her hands rested on his waist, she leaned back to look Bellamy in the eye.

“I’m not sure if this is a good thing.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Bellamy asked, confused. “Didn’t she seem happy?”

“Yes, but—“

Bellamy shook his head. “But you think that’s a problem?”

Her voice died in her throat and her head snapped back, as if her were pushed. What was _that_ supposed to mean?

“Of course I don’t think my mother’s good mood is a problem,” she countered, voice raised. She let go of Bellamy and stepped out of his embrace. She crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her chin out, defiant. “I just know that sometimes, there’s more to her good mood than just that. Hell, _you_ know that just as well!”

Bellamy raised his hands in a sign of surrender.

“You’re right, yes. But we both also know that she’d been doing much better lately,” he said. Clarke scrunched her nose, a little too agitated to just agree with him.

“Isn’t it possible that all there is to it, is that she just met a nice guy whose company she enjoys?” Bellamy offered.

“And maybe he’s a serial killer with a closet full of skeletons!” she blurted angrily.

Bellamy couched a laughter. “Seriously?!”

Clarke narrowed her eyes at him. Of course she wasn’t serious but als0, well—

“Why are you defending him?” she asked, exasperated.

Honestly, she didn’t get it. Bellamy, of all people, should know best how it felt when all your family was gone, save for one person and how much it killed you to watch them self-destruct. Why couldn’t he understand that she was just fricking worried?!

“Clarke, I am not defending anyone. All I’m saying is, maybe you’re overreacting just a little?” he waved his hand. “Your mother is a grown woman who’s perfectly capable of making her own choices.”

Clarke barked a bout of bitter laughter. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did _you_ really just say that? You, who yelled at your sister for an hour, after she came home with a huge tattoo and an older boyfriend?” she snapped.

Bellamy took a step back, his face raw with hurt as if she’d slapped him and she felt that pain deep inside her. Then, his face hardened.

“You know that’s not the same. She was _eighteen_ ,” he argued, mirroring Clarke’s position, arms crossed in front of him defensively.

Clarke gritted her teeth, irritated and slightly disappointed. All she wanted was a little support. Just for him to agree with her that the situation was a bit suspect and that she wasn’t exaggerating—even if _maybe_ , she was.

She didn’t need him to be logical and irrationally, she was upset that he didn’t just sense that. 

They stood like that for a long moment, simply facing each other with tight lips and narrowed eyes. Then, Bellamy sighed in resignation and ran his hand over his hand. He rubbed at his eyes, his shoulders dropping.

“Clarke, I don’t want to fight,” he said, tired.

Clarke looked away and swallowed. She didn’t want that either. But she wasn’t quite done fuming over the situation. Bellamy recognised _that_ mood. He dropped his chin.

“I’m gonna give you some space,” he added, quietly. And then, he was gone.

And Clarke was left feeling cold.

***

Abby didn’t waste any time organising the get-together. She called Clarke the very next morning, just as her daughter was coming off of her shift and they agreed to meet up in the evening.

When she got home, Clarke took her phone, found Bellamy’s contact information and for a moment, she was tempted to call him. She’d only done it a handful of time, last of it when he was still dating Echo and she didn’t want to interrupt anything that might scar her. Now she just didn’t want to pop by only to be told he didn’t want to see her. At least if he rejected the phone call, Clarke could try and convince herself he was just busy.

She hated that tension between them. She could _feel_ that he wasn’t enjoying it either. But he also hadn’t reached out, so Clarke put down the phone and decided she’d talk to Bellamy after meeting Russell. At least then she’ll have an excuse to do so.

She hated that she needed one at all.

Only later, when she returned home from the dinner, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to talk about it any longer.

Russell was—well, just like Abby said. He was a perfect gentleman. He drove her mother all the way from Arkadia and invited them all to a fantastic restaurant. He listened to everything Clarke and Abby said with rapt attention, he laughed appropriately at the stories from Clarke’s childhood and seemed genuinely interested in everything he’d heard.

And he smiled at Abby like he couldn’t believe his luck, which brought a blush to her mother’s face, one that Clarke wasn’t sure she’d ever seen before.

For all intents and purposes, Russell was perfect and Abby was happy. Technically, there was nothing wrong with him and the longer she spent in their company, the more she realised that Bellamy was right. She was patronising towards her mother. She was looking for holes in everything regarding her.

Hell, even if Russell turned out to be a serial bigamist with a handful of dependants, just looking for someone to scam to pay off his debts, Clarke still overreacted when she first learnt of his existence. She apologised to her mother at the end of the evening and knew that she owed Bellamy the same thing.

All things considered, though, Russell still rubbed her the wrong way. Clarke couldn’t shake the feeling that his smile was just a little too wide.

***

Two days had passed before Clarke realised that Bellamy wasn’t going to reach out first.

It took her that long to realise that the longing she’d felt wasn’t just hers but his as well. But beneath the ache of separation, she finally also recognised the resolve. He’d left with a promise of giving her space and even though he missed her, he was determined to keep that word and stay away for as long as she needed it.

It was a strange revelation, to be honest.

For the longest time, Clarke fought against the pull she’d felt towards Bellamy, the want of an even more intimate, romantic relationship out of fear that things would go wrong and they’d have a fight they wouldn’t be able to recover from—and if there ever was a subject to cause it, their families were certainly that.

Only Clarke wasn’t worried now, not like she’d ever expected to be. She couldn’t say why, couldn’t quite wrap her head around it but she _knew_ this wasn’t the end. Maybe it was the bond between them, maybe her stubborn refusal to even imagine a world where she and Bellamy weren’t on the same page anymore, but inexplicably, she just fucking knew it wouldn’t end like _that_.

Clarke shook her head decidedly and grabbed her phone to check the time. She ran through Bellamy’s schedule and once she was quite certain he should be back home already, she took a breath and focused on that one voice, deep inside her soul, that had been calling her name her entire life.

She exhaled and came face to face with Bellamy.

He was sitting at the dining table, a computer in front of him and a stack of papers next to it. He’d looked up exactly as she appeared and for a second, they stared at each other, frozen.

“I’m sorry, Bell,” Clarke spoke first, coming up to him.

At the same time, Bellamy closed his laptop, rose from his chair and started walking towards her.

They’d met halfway and without a word, Bellamy took her in his arms. One of his hands cupped her jaw and he pressed his lips against hers in a heavy kiss. They both inhaled deeply once he’d ended the kiss, as if that was only just possible, now that they were back at each other’s side.

“So am I,” Bellamy shook his head slightly. “I was out of line, I shouldn’t have said any of that.”

Clarke opened her mouth but ended up just releasing a stifled chuckle. She put her hand over Bellamy’s still on her cheek.

“I was pretty much about to say the same,” she confessed, smiling lightly. “Bringing up Octavia was a low blow and it’s not like—“ she huffed, “I mean, I know that it _is_ different with her.”

Bellamy matched her small smile and nudged her head forward, bringing their foreheads together.

“Doesn’t mean I have the monopoly on worrying about family and it certainly doesn’t give me the right to tell you how you should deal with your mother. I’m so sorry.”

Clarke smiled and moved, pressing her lips to his cheek. Bellamy’s hand slid from her face to the back of her neck, his other arm wrapping tighter around her middle. Clarke let go of his elbows that she’d only just realised she’d been holding on to and slid her hands between his arms and his sides, hugging his middle.

He was warm and so fantastically familiar against her, it was like coming home.

“Can I ask you something?” Bellamy muttered into her hair and Clarke hummed an agreement. “Do you really think there’s something wrong with that guy?”

Clarke nodded, her head slipping down to his shoulder. “Yeah,” she muttered into his neck. “I met him and he seems—perfect. And he makes my skin crawl.”

Her shoulders tensed and she felt Bellamy’s arms tighten his hold around her. She breathed slowly, trying to find the right words.

“It’s like everything he says had been carefully crafted and thought out; like he’s trying to make sure every moment goes according to some plan he’s got.”

Clarke shifted and loosened her grip to look up at Bellamy.

“But I didn’t know that when she’d first told me. Then, I was—“ her voice wavered. It would sound ridiculous, she realised. But she also knew Bellamy would understand. “I think I was a little jealous.”

Bellamy took his hand from her neck and brought it back to her face. He brushed a stray tendril of hair, tucked it behind her ear with a soft but a little sad smile.

“Because she is going out on dates and we can’t,” Bellamy stated matter-of-factly. Of course he understood.

He clenched his jaw and looked down, at her clavicle.

“I think that’s why I was such a dick, too,” he confessed quietly. “Here’s your mother, sharing her joy of a new relationship and we’re still apart because of me. Because I moved to a different fucking continent.”

He swore under his breath, shaking his head. But before he could say anything else, Clarke cut in.

“Don’t do that, Bell,” she said, pressing a small kiss to the underside of his jaw. “This has always be your dream and I’m so happy that you can do this. You deserve this opportunity.”

Bellamy smiled, a little more surely. He ran his hand through Clarke’s hair and held the back of her head.

“I love you so much,” he said. Clarke grinned at him.

“I love you, too,” she confirmed and surged forwards, claiming his lips with a hungry kiss.

She moaned into the kiss as arousal spread throughout her entire body like wildfire. It’s always been like that between them—they’d go from nought to one hundred at a flip of a switch, their bodies always in sync, always wanting more.

Maybe that was the whole point of soulmates, she though. It was hardly ever _easy_ between them. Even disregarding the physical distance, they were both stubborn people and they were capable of finding an argument in the most mundane things – so with the more serious issues, it could get bad.

But when it was good, it was so very, very good that it made it all worth fighting for.

There was this sense of conviction, deep in her heart, when she was with Bellamy. Not because she thought that nothing could touch them—she knew better that to take anything for granted. But she was certain that their souls belonged to one another and that she’d never give up on them, never stop fighting for him.

***

In the next few weeks, as the spring blossomed and turned into an early summer, Bellamy started taking Clarke out on more and more dates around Rome, as if he wanted to show her the whole city before it was too late. For what, she couldn’t tell, it’s not like they wouldn’t be able to do it in the autumn. But she didn’t complain.

Even if he had to rein himself in to avoid attracting too much attention, Bellamy was still an amazing tour guide. The sheer enthusiasm he had for the history of the place, for pointing out all the little details, was practically palpable and Clarke was loving those trips.

Although, frankly, it was becoming a little frustrating, how Bellamy would subtly change the subject whenever she tried to ask him what brought this travel kick on—or when she asked about his job. He’d always been full of stories about co-workers and his students, but lately, everything had been just simply _fine_. And Clarke was feeling a little suspicious.

“So, how’s your mother doing?” Bellamy asked, readjusting the hands-free earpiece. He glanced sideways to where Clarke was sitting but averted his eyes quickly.

He’d taken them to a small square near the old town, less crowded and loud than anywhere they’d been so far that day. They’d sat down on a wooden bench and for a moment, they just enjoyed the sun.

Clarke’s face contorted in a small grimace when she’d heard the question. Abby Griffin and Russell Prime were going strong and she still couldn’t fully accept the man.

She groaned quietly.

“She seems good,” she admitted, shrugging. “Russell is taking her out to dinners, galas, parties. They seem to be living their best lives,” she grumbled.

Bellamy snorted under his breath. “Wow, can you possibly sound any more enthusiastic?” he asked, laughing. Clarke elbowed him in the ribs, which only made him laugh louder. Still, she smiled, too.

“Dude, you don’t like him either,” she reminded Bellamy with a cocked eyebrow.

Since they reconciled after their argument, Bellamy had a chance to experience the fabulous Mr. Prime for himself—sort of. When Russell invited both Abby and Clarke to a fundraiser, Bellamy asked if he could tag along, to see the man who was grating on Clarke’s nerves so much.

It was a bit of a disappointment that for once, he came by wearing perfectly respectable clothes and never once tried to convince Clarke to slip away and find a nice, secluded corner somewhere, but in the end, it was all worth it to feel the vindication when Bellamy agreed that he didn’t trust Russell either. He just seemed so—slippery.

Bellamy shrugged one shoulder and cracked another smile, somewhat in her direction.

He sat up straighter and spread himself wider on the bench when a group of tourists came into the square, lest one of them tried to take a seat next to him.

Clarke felt the sparks jump between his skin and hers when their arms brushed. Over the years, she tried to find a good way to describe the feeling but the best she could come up with that it was like static electricity – only instead of taking her hand away from the pain, she welcomed the tiny jolts of excitation reverberating throughout her. And the longer their intimate relationship had been, the more pronounced the sensation was.

Bellamy felt it, too, she knew that. And just as her, he always wanted more. He eyed the tourists and when he decided they were enough preoccupied with each other, he grabbed Clarke’s hand and brought to his lips. He kissed her knuckles gently before pressing the palm of her open hand against her cheek. He nuzzled into her touch.

Clarke bushed her pads of her fingers against his skin, warm and darkened from the sun. They looked at each other wordlessly for a moment before one of the tourists laughed out loud, startling them both.

Clarke took her hand and replaced it onto her lap. She heard Bellamy grumbled under his breath and smiled to herself.

Bellamy rubbed the back of his neck then, and sent her a strange look. She would’ve said ‘uncertain’ but it wasn’t a trait Clarke saw in him often.

“Hey, I was thinking,” he finally started, clearing his throat. “Now that we know Russell’s name, maybe we could try learn a little more about him.”

Clarke frowned.

“You mean, more than the google search we did a month ago, right?” she specified and Bellamy nodded.

“Remember when I told you about that girl I grew up with, who wanted to become an astronaut?”

Clarke searched her brain and then—“Raven, right?”

He nodded again. “She works for the NSA now. And she owes me a favour.”

Clarke blinked, dumbfounded. “You—you’ve got a friend in the NSA,” she snorted. “Of course you do.”

Bellamy grinned at her and leaned back against the wooden backrest.

“And we think this is an appropriate reaction?” Clarke implored, genuinely curious. Sure, she didn’t like the guy. But she wasn’t so sure about Kane, either, and she never even checked if he had a criminal record.

The NSA was a nuclear option.

Bellamy took her hand again and gave her a soft squeeze.

“It’s up to you,” he said. “But at least then you’ll know.”

Clarke blew a raspberry and wave her hand.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s do it.”

***

The day was dragging on and on, and on.

Clarke came home from work and immediately fell onto her couch face-first, her feet still dragging on the floor.

She groaned when her phone buzzed in her pocket but chose to ignore it in favour of just straight up falling asleep right then and there.

A few moments had passed and she was on the brink of consciousness when she felt the tug and seconds later, Bellamy appeared. Clarke smiled into the cushion and turned onto her side, hoping that he’d join her and they could both catch some sleep.

Only Bellamy didn’t smile back and didn’t lay down next to her.

Instead, he rushed to her, crouching in front of the couch.

“Clarke,” he started, voice tinged with worry. Clarke, still only half-awake, took a moment to fully recognise the serious expression he was wearing. She blinked rapidly and rubbed at her eyes, trying to get rid of the sleep.

With effort, she sat up and when Bellamy put his hands on her knees, she looked down at him with worry.

“What’s up?”

“Did you saw the email?” Bellamy asked without preamble, looking around, probably searching for her phone. Clarke shook her head but was already patting herself, looking.

She unlocked the phone and opened the only unread message, noting the unfamiliar address it came from.

“I called Raven, told her that whatever she finds, she should send it to the both of us,” Bellamy explained but Clarke had already figured it out.

She read through the email and with each new word, more dread settled itself deep in her stomach.

“Russell _Lightbourne_?” she read out loud, eyes bulging.

“Apparently, he’d changed his name a few years ago when one of his old ‘girlfriends’ accused him of stealing from her—and others followed suit,” Bellamy summarised, looking at the phone upside down, watching as Clarke went further down, absorbing the new information.

And there was a lot of it.

Not only was Russell Lightbourne a thief who ran away the moment that suspicions arose, he was also implicated in a murder case—of his own family.

“—wife Simone and daughter Josephine were found dead in their family home,” she read from an article. “What looked like an accidental carbon monoxide poisoning later turned out to be a case of homicide, as further investigation uncovered traces of foul-play, both inside the house and on the b—“

Clarke stopped reading with a pained groan.

“He killed his own family?” she asked weakly and the hand holding the phone dropped to her lap.

“There wasn’t enough evidence,” Bellamy explained. “But he disappeared shortly after the accusation started flying, so.”

Clarke closed her eyes, fingers clenching around the phone. She shook her head and released a breath.

“I’m sorry,” Bellamy said gently. His hands were wrapped around Clarke’s thighs and she treasured the connection. The pressure helped her ground herself and collect her thoughts.

“I guess this is when I say ‘I told you so’,” she joked with a weak, crooked half-smile.

Bellamy looked up at her and, with the same sad smile, started rubbing small circles over her leg with one of his hands.

Clarke pinched the bridge of her nose. “I honestly thought the worst we’d find out would be that he’s got seven ex-wives that they all want alimony and child-support. But this—“ she sighed a ragged breath. “I don’t even have a word for this.”

Her phone buzzed in her hand, the screen lighting up with a random notification. It surprised her enough that Clarke nearly dropped it. She stared at it for a second and then,

“I have to tell my mother,” she decided.

With Bellamy still crouching in front of her, Clarke was almost on the same eye level at him and could clearly see the worry in his eyes. She put her free hand over one of his and squeezed hard, for support.

“Right?” she asked, suddenly feeling absolutely insecure. Russell’s past was suspicious but all the files stated that there were no evidence and no convictions. That meant he was either a criminal mastermind or innocent, but desperately unlucky. And for all she knew, he might’ve already told her mother everything—and finding out Clarke had him investigated might very well destroy his relationship with Abby, one that seemed to be making her very happy indeed.

Still, the way he looked at both Clarke and Abby sometimes—

Sensing her struggle, Bellamy intertwined their fingers together.

“I think you should at least talk to her,” he said. “I _know_ that you won’t be able to relax unless you do.”

After a moment of silence, Clarke acknowledged his argument with a short nod. She unlocked her phone and with one hand still holding Bellamy’s, dialled her Abby’s number. The ring-back tone grated on her nerves until finally, her mother picked up.

Clarke took a deep breath once they moved on from the pleasantries. “Mum, we need to talk,” she said hurriedly.

“Oh,” Abby made a surprised noise. “Is everything okay?”

“I hope so, but um,” Clarke hesitated. Her mother sounded well—engaged, interested, not worried. She wasn’t sure if she could do this over the phone. But she had to say something. “I need to tell you something important.”

Abby hummed in understanding. “Okay, honey. Can it wait, though? Russell is waiting for me, we’re supposed to go to dinner.”

Clarke’s back straightened. “He’s there?” tumbled out of her and she could practically hear Abby frown over the phone.

“Yes,” she confirmed, “he is waiting.” Abby pronounced each word carefully. “Clarke, are you sure you’re alright?”

There was a hint of alarm in her voice there and Clarke froze. Maybe a phone call wasn’t the best idea. Maybe she should’ve just gotten into her car and went over there. Sit her mother down and have this conversation in person.

“Honey?” Abby’s voice broke through the haze in her mind.

Clarke exhaled heavily, shoulders slumping.

“Yes, mum, I’m fine,” she finally answered. “But, uhm, yes. I want to talk to you, do you mind if I come by tonight?”

Bellamy’s eyebrows jumped when he heard her, the question obvious in his eyes. She shrugged one shoulder.

Abby hesitated over the phone, probably relaying Clarke’s request over to Russell. Clarke could feel her hands started shaking a little, stressed by the situation. By the not knowing if the man standing right next to her mother could be trusted.

Finally, Abby agreed to rescheduled the dinner and promised to wait up. The moment they disconnected, Clarke tossed her phone to the side and stood up, nearly toppling over Bellamy. He stayed quiet during the whole conversation and his steady presense made her feel almost like they were fused together, moving as one organism.

She steadied herself by putting her hand on his shoulders, his palms grabbing onto her hips for a moment.

“I have to go,” she announced uselessly. He’d heard everything, after all. Still, it was as if she was subconsciously waiting for him to offer to go with her—and he never did.

Clarke squashed the slight disappointment and let go of him. She ran to her bedroom to change quickly and on her way back, she collected all that she’d abandoned since returning from work.

With her handbag in one hand and sneakers in the other, she returned to the living room, where Bellamy still waited, pacing around the coffee table, hands propped on his hips and uncharacteristically quiet. Not that Clarke expected him to _argue_ , but she couldn’t shake the thought that he was otherwise preoccupied that evening.

With a tinge of regret, she dropped that matter, though. If there was something going on with him, Clarke wanted to know but for now, she had to get to Arkadia.

Jumping from one foot to the other, Clarke put her shoes on. Bellamy smiled faintly at her actions but she could see his attention slipping. With one hand, Clarke grabbed for her discarded phone and she hooked the other around Bellamy’s elbow. He looked at her and blinked, as if only now remembering he was still at her place.

He shook his head, unfurled his arms and put his own hand around Clarke’s wrist.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t go with you,” he said regretfully, clearly reading her mind. His head snapped up suddenly and he looked over her shoulder.

Faintly, Clarke could hear noises in the distance and realised that it happened at his place.

Bellamy swore under his breath in Italian and clenched his jaw.

“Sorry,” he apologised again, looking back at her. “I gotta go.”

Clarke nodded her head. “It’s okay,” she assured him.

“Drive carefully, please,” Bellamy insisted, his hand squeezing her wrist. “And be careful with Russell.”

Clarke swung her bag over her shoulder and put her now free hand on his cheek.

“I will,” she promised. She rose to her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss onto his lips. “I love you.”

That brought out a smile onto his face. Without a moment’s hesitation, Bellamy chased after her lips and captured her in a searing kiss. He ripped himself away just as she was about to beg his mouth to open with her tongue. A groan of regret came out of his mouth instead and he huffed, exasperated.

“I really gotta go,” he explained as he detached himself from Clarke. “I’ll see you as soon as I can, I promise. I love you.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Clarke took a couple of breaths and walked out of her flat.

It wasn’t until she was already in her car and pulling away from her parking spot when she remembered that it was an early evening in Chicago, which meant that it was the middle of the night in Rome.

Why the hell was Bellamy even awake at the hour?

***

Abby listened with attention when Clarke told her all that she’d learnt about Russell but her brow was furrowing further and further the more that Clarke revealed. One thing was sure, her mother had no idea about any of it, if her shocked and frustrated expression was anything to go by.

Not about the dead family, the accusations of theft, or the name change.

And when Clarke finished her tale, there was a log beat of heavy silence settling between the two of them.

“Sweetie, I don’t know who told you any of that but—“ Abby started but broke off mid-sentence and sighed. “Russell is a good man.”

“I’m not saying he isn’t,” Clarke answered, one of her hands resting on top of Abby’s. Her mother still wore both her engagement rings, now on the same finger, the two diamonds complementing each other as if they were made to go together. “Just—my friend did some digging,” she started, not willing to go into details about who exactly Raven was at the moment.

“ _Digging_?!” Abby echoed and ripped her hand away. “I know that you’ve never liked Russell but Clarke, this is low.”

Clarke winced. Clearly she hadn’t been able to hide her distrust as well as she thought.

“Mum, I’m just trying to look out for you,” she tried explaining but even to her ears, it sounded weak. Her mother was right, it was low.

“By running surveillance on a man I’m dating?” Abby scoffed, crossing her arms in front of her. “And how would you feel if I’d ever done that to one of your partners?!”

Clarke choked on air, the insanity of the situation truly hitting her just then. Sordid part or not, she still had someone run a background check on her mother’s boyfriend. Bellamy was right, she did treat Abby like a child.

Clarke ran her hand over her face, at a loss about what to do. Because even her questionable methods aside, that still left the matter of the truth that Russell had kept hidden.

“You’re right,” Clarke admitted. She leaned closer to her mother, resting her elbows on the table that stood between them. “I shouldn’t have done that and I’m sorry. But I have and the things I found—”

“Could all be lies,” Abby supplied, challenging. “He is an influential man. I’m sure there are people who’d be willing to say anything to bring him down.”

Clarke exhaled and slumped in her seat. She wasn’t totally surprised that Abby didn’t believe her—she didn’t have any real proof other than an email from a woman she’d never met and Bellamy’s reassurance that she could be trusted. But it stung, when Abby immediately took Russell’s side, seemingly without even considering that he might be guilty of something.

All Clarke could see was her mother choosing to trust the word of a man she’d met three months ago over her daughter’s.

“Mum,” she tried again, pleading.

But Abby had had enough. She stood up from her chair, the legs scraping against the hardwood floor loudly. “Clarke, enough,” she said.

Her mother smoothed down the front of her dress and pressed a hand against her forehead, a move Clarke knew well from her childhood—Abby was angry.

“This is still your home and I won’t ask you to leave,” Abby said stiffly, “but I think it’ll do me some good if I did.”

Clarke practically jumped up from her chair.

“Mum, come on,” she insisted. “Can we just talk about it?”

“We will,” he mother promised. “But I need to think about it all.”

Abby walked away from the table and out of the house, leaving Clarke behind, speechless.

***

Clarke waited for her mother to come back for two hours, barely looking at anything other than a clock or the door, before she’d finally lost it.

She dug her phone and called her mother for the second time that day, now even more worried than previously.

Her first call went to voice mail and she disconnected the second the message started. Dialling again, Clarke tried focusing on Bellamy. It was almost dawn in Italy, so it was doubtful he’d still be awake but it was still a bit of a let-down when she couldn’t reach him. Technically, it wasn’t impossible for them to hop to the other side when one of them was sleeping but it required attention that Clarke wasn’t able to muster in that moment. In that state, she would’ve needed him to try just as much as she had and that was clearly not happening.

Clarke clenched her hand in a fist and brought it to her forehead when finally, her mother pick up.

“Clarke,” Abby greeted her tersely. Clarke swallowed at her mother’s tone but soon focused on the call instead. There was a noise in the background, some fade trace of music and someone’s voice. A male voice that sent an unpleasant spark down Clarke’s back.

“Mum, where are you?” she asked. She could hear Russell say something but couldn’t make out the words.

“Honey, I’ve talked to Russell,” Abby announced, a smile in her voice. “And I told you, none of it is true.”

Clarke could feel her blood freeze in her veins. She couldn’t shake the dread spreading inside of her but she couldn’t explain it, either. Russell was still speaking in the background. Clarke realised that Abby covered the microphone with her hand and answered him. She heard faint laughter that was cut short and was followed by Abby’s raised voice.

Clarke stood up from the couch, as if she could somehow get closer to her mother like that.

“Mum!” she shouted into the phone but her mother clearly wasn’t listening anymore. Instead, it sounded like she was arguing with Russell.

“Mum!” Clarke screamed again, her free hand grabbing at her own hand for something to hold onto.

There was a loud noise at the other end of the line and then—it was all gone.

Her phone beeped to signal the end of the call but Clarke didn’t notice at first. She called out to her mother again before she dropped her hand down. The phone tumbled out of her grasp and landed in the soft carpet. She stared at the wall in front of her for a long, painful moment. Her head was spinning, her heart was hurting and her soul was screaming for Bellamy but he still wasn’t there. And she couldn’t get to him either, too rattled to focus on her destination.

Her eyes watered with tears, flashbacks running through her head like a movie she hated—of Sheriff Miller coming to her house to tell her about her parents’ accident, of seeing her father for the first time in the hospital bed. Of finally realising that he was actually gone.

Her stomach clenched and her lungs felt like they were permanently contracted.

She dropped to her knees, blindly searching for her phone. Blood rushing in her ears and hands shaking, Clarke scrolled through her contacts. When she reached Nathan Miller’s name, she hit dial so quickly she nearly dropped the phone again. It rang for a few long seconds but before Clarke could start worrying if maybe he’d changed her number, her friend picked up.

“Clarke Griffin, as I live and breathe,” he said with a smile in his voice. “How are you doing?”

“Miller, please,” she breathed out in a shaky voice, forgoing the niceties. Immediately, his tone changed as well.

“Clarke, what’s wrong?” he demanded, on full alert, in detective mode. They both used to joke about the two of them following in their parents’ footsteps like little sheep but the truth of the matter was, Miller was a great cop.

“My mother,” she said, voice breaking. “I think she had an accident.”

“I need details,” he demanded and Clarke could hear the clickety-clack of his computer keyboard.

“She was driving—no wait, she wasn’t driving; but she was in a car. Her boyfriend was driving—Russell. Lightbourne. But he may have used a different name,” she rambled. “He drives a big BMW, but he may have switched cars. If he suspected that something was wrong—“ her voice died and she took in a sharp gulp of air.

“Okay, slow down,” Miller instructed steadily. “If someone reported an accident, I’ll find it any moment. And if not, I’ll send out someone to look for them, okay?”

She breathed heavily into the phone and only answered when Miller demanded her attention again.

“I promise, I’ll find your mother,” he said, gently, like he was talking to a wounded animal. He wasn’t all that far off.

“You just breath, I’ll get back to you.”

The call disconnected after that and with a painful cry, Clarke picked herself up from the floor and climbed over to the couch. She curled into a ball, eyes clenched shut to stop the tears.

She couldn’t tell how much time had passed since she’d spoken to Miller. It seemed like no longer than a few seconds and suddenly, there was someone at the door, ringing the bell.

Clarke knew it was bad when she opened the door and Miller stood there with a sombre expression on his face. She barely registered what he’d said, too focused on the blinding red and blue lights of his squad car.

Still, something made it through the fog in her brain—crash, ran from the scene, hospital. Words rattled in her head, losing all meaning. All she knew was that she needed to _go_. If it wasn’t for Miller’s level-headedness, she would’ve left without her shoes or locking the front door. Luckily, her friend guided her through the house, constantly reminded her that Abby was _alive_ , and then helped her into his car.

He drove them to Arkadia Memorial and led Clarke to the waiting area, where he introduced him to his boyfriend, a doctor ( _when did Miller get a new boyfriend, though?_ ), and promised to be back as soon as he could.

Doctor Jackson sat down next to her on a plastic chair, a reassuring smile on his face. He promised that Abby’s injuries were serious but not necessarily life-threatening. Clarke wanted to know the details but didn’t have the strength to ask questions.

All she could think of was how she wasn’t capable of going through this again.

Especially not without Bellamy.

***

Clarke sat in that same squeaky, plastic chair for hours, waiting for news of her mother’s condition. Thanks to Doctor please-just-call-me-Jackson’s semi-regular updates, she knew that while there wasn’t much internal damage, both of her mother’s legs were broke and it’s taken the doctors a long time to put her mother back together.

She did what she could to keep herself from losing her mind but with each passing minute, it seemed more and more like a losing battle.

At some point, she’d been informed by a rather serious-looking surgeon that her mother made it through surgery and had been moved to a post-op unit but it would still be a while before Clarke would be able to see her.

It wasn’t until the doctor sent her a small but reassuring smile, that Clarke was even able to recognise in her the same resident who was on rotation with her mother for a few months when Clarke was a kid and who used to smuggle lollipops for her from the paediatrics ward.

“Thank you, Indra,” Clarke muttered, eyes glazing over with unshed tears.

Indra smiled more widely at that and the warmth in her gaze lifted Clarke’s spirits, at least a little bit. She put her hand on Clarke’s shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze.

“Your mother will get through this, the surgery went well,” she repeated, with even more force and confidence.

Clarke took a deep breath and with a short nod, she got up from her chair and pulled out her phone. Bellamy was still unreachable to her and ever worse, he wasn’t picking his phone, either. And that was just—a cherry on top, frankly.

With her lip between her teeth, she listened to his voice mail message. She smiled involuntarily when he repeated the same instructions in fluent Italian. Even as a recording, heard for the who-knows-which time that night, his voice was still like a balm to her bruised and battered soul.

“Hey, Bellamy,” she said quietly, her voice hoarse. “I—I’m not sure why I keep recording those messages to you, I’m hoping you’ll reach out before you ever have the chance to hear them but still, it helps, telling you all that. Even if you’re not here to respond. It keeps me sane.”

Clarke took a deep breath and rubbed the back of her neck. “Mum’s out of the surgery, finally. She’s probably gonna need so much rehab, I can’t even imagine, but—she’s out.” A soft sob escaped her and she sniffled into the phone. “You know, when I first got here, heard how bad it was, it was like I was seventeen again. All alone and terrified. And I kept looking around hoping to see you, just like I did then. I don’t think I ever really thanked you properly for being there for me—not like I probably should’ve.”

An alarm went off in one of the rooms nearby, startling Clarke out of her thoughts. She huffed and shook her head to centre herself.

“I really hope you’re okay,” he whispered, as is she was scared that saying it any louder would somehow stir up more trouble. “I couldn’t bear if something—no,” she stopped herself mid-sentence. “No, you’re fine. You have to be.”

In the corner of her eye, Clarke saw that Miller appeared in the waiting room, still in uniform and looking exhausted. Her fingers tightened around her phone.

“I gotta go, I love you,” she shot quickly. “Just please, come back to me safely.”

She ended the call already on her way to greet Miller, who came by with new information.

“We checked out the car and I ran the name you gave me,” he said, pulling out his notepad. A wave of nostalgia flooded Clarke at the sight of Miller’s blocky handwriting. “Looks like that guy has some interesting past.”

“Yeah, I know,” Clarke answered with a long-suffering sigh. “That’s why I came in the first place—to tell my mother all about it.”

Miller hummed. “I take it she didn’t respond as you’d have hoped.”

Clarke’s eyebrows raised in confirmation.

“Far from it. She’d gone to see him, ask him all about it. I think they started arguing when I called her and maybe that’s what caused the accident,” she theorised, guilt building up low in her gut. Fuck, none of it would’ve happened is she hadn’t gone out of her way to check Russell out.

But then, Miller shook his head. “Maybe they have been fighting but that was hardly an accident. From the look of the scene, Lightbourne drove into that ditch on purpose—and most of the damage was to the passenger side,” he explained and Clarke didn’t need more to figure out what he wasn’t saying.

“He tried to kill my mother,” she stated slowly, voice devoid of all emotion. The air was stuck in her throat and Clarke wasn’t even sure how the hell she was still standing.

Miller nodded his head once, in agreement.

“Yeah, it seems so. But that was not on you—we went to the his place, found some suspicious-looking documents and an engagement ring. He was broke and the working theory is that he wanted to marry your mother and then get rid of her, to get all her money.”

Clarke let out a dry bout of laughter. That—there was no other reaction to that news. She rubbed her forehead, wondering when would she finally wake up from this episode of a telenovela.

“Well, good luck with that,” she muttered. And then, seeing Miller’s confused expression, “my mother’s not doing all that fabulously, either. Most of what she had was swallowed by the medical bills from all those experimental treatments she got Kane into when he got sick. And whatever little’s left, I’ll be getting that.”

Miller hummed again, processing. There was something so very comforting in his quiet, familiar presence and Clarke was grateful to have him there.

“Thanks, Miller, for everything” she said, wrapping her hand gently around his forearm. He brought his hand to pat hers and smiled.

“No problem. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to wait here with you for a while. Jackson’s shift ends in an hour. Besides, I’d rather be in reserve, in case Lightbourne decides to take a swing at you.”

“I’d like to see him try,” Clarke challenged with a snort. “But I think he knows better than to come anywhere near me and that many scalpels.”

Miller snorted. “Ah, there is the Clarke Griffin that we all know and fear.”

Clarke shoved him away, biting back a laugh.

***

The next hour went by in a blink of an eye.

While Miller went between complaining about how uncomfortable his chair was to taking quick power naps every few minutes, Clarke stayed awake the whole time. Even when he was awake, their conversations were hardly stimulating but having him by her side was priceless.

Still, when Jackson’s shift ended, he came by to collect his half-awake boyfriend and Clarke was left alone once again. Waiting.

She couldn’t say how long had passed when she heard someone call out her name—and through the haze of exhaustion, she barely recognised the voice.

“Bellamy,” she breathed out, a weight lifting off of her shoulders.

She shot up from her seat and ran to him, throwing herself into his arms.

Her hands went around his shoulders immediately, without thinking, as if they were made to fit around him. She collided with him with a force that stopped him mid-step and it was only his strength and solidness that kept them both from tumbling down.

But she didn’t care.

She didn’t care that everyone could see her—running like a mad woman, crying and hugging the thin air, muttering someone’s name over and over again, like a prayer.

She couldn’t care less about anything that was happening around her, not when Bellamy was finally by her side.

“Clarke, I’m so sorry that it took me so long,” he said into the side of her head. He was brushing the hair away from her face, trying to coax her into looking up but she couldn’t do it just yet, not when her lips have finally found their perfect spot in the crook between his neck and shoulder, where she could breathe in his scent, more dear and beautiful to her that any perfume.

“Clarke, baby, look at me,” he tried again and at the sound of the pet name, she finally loosened her grip and moved. She looked at him with tears in her eyes, with mouth open and fingers clenched into the soft material of his shirt.

“You’re here,” she finally spoke, voice full of wonder.

She’d read once that people claimed that being away from one’s soulmate was like missing a piece of her heart but she wasn’t sure she’d agree. Being away from Bellamy felt like missing her piece of her entire self. He was a part of every single molecule that made up her body, of every stitch of her soul. Only when they were together, she truly felt like she was complete.

Without a though, she climbed onto her tiptoes and pressed an urgent, searing kiss against her lips. And something strange happened.

It was as if her entire body had been blown into pieces and then put back together again. And again. And again.

For as long as their lips were touching, every atom in her body was racing at the speed of light, up to the point where when the kiss ended and she stepped down, flat on the floor, it was as if the whole world around them disappeared.

Only to come back rushing in when someone cleared out their throat from behind Bellamy. Clarke blinked and looked around Bellamy to where a security guard stood, hands crossed over his chest and a sour expression on his face.

“Excuse me,” he said, irritated.

Clarke was about to say something when she realised that—he wasn’t really looking at _her_.

“Sir, this is a hospital, you can’t just come running in for a dramatic reunion,” he scolded. “First of all, you need to sign in. And besides, it’s 8 in the morning, visiting hours haven’t started yet.”

Clarke stared at him dumbfounded. Her arms were still wrapped around Bellamy, so she probably looked ridiculous but that was a distant worry. She was momentarily more concerned about who the guard was talking to, because—

Wait.

 _Sir_?

She blinked again. And again. And then, Clarke looked away from the guard and back at Bellamy.

Her knees turned to jelly but Bellamy’s arms were still wrapped securely around her middle, holding her up. Clarke moved one of her hands from his shoulders and to his face—only to stop a breath away.

She frowned, her fingertips reaching out tentatively. When the pads of her fingers brushed his cheekbone, a shudder went through the both of them, snapping them out of the haze.

“You’re here,” she said again, bewildered. “You’re really— _here_. How?”

Bellamy smoothed the hair at the back of her head.

“I took a plane. And then a bus. And a cab,” he listed, smiling. “I took a sleeping pill on the plane, you know how I get. But I heard all your messages. And I’m sorry I was out of touch.”

Clarke started shaking her head in wonder. She chuckled, then laughed.

With her fingers still caressing Bellamy’s cheek, she wiped away a stray tear that escaped from his eyes.

“Wait, but if you’re here now, that means—“

“I was already at the airport when I got the email from Raven. Came to you right away but then I had to go, they were calling out my ride.”

“But I don’t understand, what about your job? I thought you couldn’t take a vacation.”

“Yeah, but they gave me a week to finalise my new contract at another university,” he explained.

Clarke froze. He couldn’t possibly mean—

“Surprise,” Bellamy said with a uncertain grin.

“You’re coming back?” she asked, amazed. “Where?”

Not that it really mattered. As long as it’s the same continent, she’d take it.

Bellamy grinned. “Loyola.”

“You mean— _Chicago_? You’re moving to Chicago?”

Her voice was practically gone, taken away alongside her breath and the ability to think straight.

“Where else could I possibly move?”

Clarke frowned. “But what about Rome? That was your dream, you can’t give up on it just for me.”

Bellamy’s smile turned impossibly more gentle and he nuzzled into the palm of her hand.

“Rome was my dream, yes. And I’m very glad to have gone there but I’ve been sort of stuck there. I told you, there wasn’t anywhere up for me to go there, not at the moment and probably not for a long time.” He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly shy. “I’ve actually been looking for something back home for a while.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up. And mine.” Bellamy chuckled nervously. “I was hoping to get something close to you, maybe a couple of hours away. But then, Loyola called and I just—“ he shrugged, astonished. “They’re offering good money and a good position. So really, you’re just a bonus.”

He tried winking but as always, failed ridiculously. And that attempts was what finally snapped Clarke out of her stupor. She yanked him for another bone-crushing hug but they were interrupted again.

“Sir,” the guard insisted. Bellamy sent Clarke a sheepish look.

“He’s with me, please,” Clarke spoke, clearing her throat. Bellamy’s eyebrows shot up, as is he was about to tease her for expecting that to work but then, it did. After the whole night spent in that waiting room, she became a familiar face to two shifts of doctors, nurses and all the other employees coming and going.

Reluctantly, the guard nodded and waved them off. He walked away with an exasperated sigh. Clarke giggled and tucked herself into Bellamy’s side, arms now wrapped firmly around her waist. She looked up at him and found him already staring down, a gleeful smile on his face.

They stood like that until Indra appeared at the door and waved Clarke over. Grabbing Bellamy’s hand, she rushed to the doctor’s side. Indra spared him a glance before she turned back to Clarke.

“Your mother had been moved to a recovery suite. She’s still unconscious but she’s stable. You can come see her.”

Clarke gasped, fingers tightening like a vice around Bellamy’s hand.

“And your—“ Indra prompted.

“Bellamy,” Clarke answered without a blink.

Indra’s lips twitched into a tiny smirk.

“Your Bellamy can come with you,” she allowed and turned on her heel, leaving Clarke and Bellamy to scramble behind her.

Clarke tugged on his hand but in instead of moving, Bellamy’s sent her a panicked look, his eye wide.

“Oh, come on,” she teased. “You heard it yourself, she’s _unconscious_. What can she possibly do to you?”

***

3 months later

Clarke waited for her mother to get out of physical therapy, scrolling through her phone. Her three-months-long leave she requested after her mother’s accident was coming to an end and her new schedule was going to be brutal.

She knew it would be hard, catching up after all the time she’d missed and she was amazed that she was allowed to take that much time off, but Doctor Cartwig did all she could to make that happen—and for that, Clarke would forever be grateful to her.

Abby’s recovery was going very well but even in spite of that, when she was finally discharged from the hospital, she still had both her legs immobilised and a damned laundry list of other injuries to worry about, so Clarke was able to convince her mother to move in with her. And it was truly an experience.

The strangest thing, tough, was the new side of her relationship with Bellamy. With Abby almost always at her side, he couldn’t just pop by anytime he wanted nor could Clarke go over to him, lest her mother discovered more that Clarke was ready to tell her. And that meant that for the first time, they were truly in a long-distance relationship, with all the phone and video calls they could manage while they were unable to be together.

It wasn’t easy. Now that she knew how it felt to be truly held by him, each moment she’d spent away from him cut her all the more deeply. Especially since she could see the finish line of the horizon.

Durnig the week that Bellamy had spent with her, he was able to work out all the details of his new job and then, it was official; come Autumn, he was to start teaching in Chicago—and move in with her. That one seemed really obvious at a time but with Abby now sleeping in Clarke’s bedroom and her on the couch, it was starting to look a little impossible.

Still, seeing as Bellamy had a few more weeks left in Rome and there wasn’t a chance in hell that she’d have him living anywhere other than with her, Clarke knew that they’d work things out, together.

The sliding door of the rehab centre opened with a whoosh and Clarke looked up to she Abby limp out of there slowly, propped up on her crutches.

Every single bone in Clarke’s body was screaming to go over to her and help her but her mother was very clear and determined—she had set herself goals for her recovery and she wanted to meet them all by herself. Well, she did have _some_ help. Shortly before being discharged from the hospital, Abby had finally admitted to Clarke, and to herself, that she had a substance abuse issues and agreed to work with a therapist to monitor her pain levels and make sure that she wasn’t going down a slippery slope. And so far, she was doing so well that Clarke was finding it somewhat terrifying. For some reason, even despite what happened, it almost seemed too good to be true.

After a few moments of small steps and slow progress, Abby finally made it to Clarke’s car and they were able to go back home.

It was late afternoon when the two of them sat on Clarke’s balcony, each with a mug of tea in hand, in companionable silence. An then, Abby looked over at Clarke with a small smile on her face, her fingers drumming a nervous tempo onto her thigh.

Clarke’s eyebrows jumped up and she waited for her mother to start talking.

“Honey, do you remember Charmaine, Marcus’s cousin?” Abby finally asked, her voice causal.

Clarke frowned for a moment, remembering the former soldier, now a social worker. She hadn’t been around since Kane passed away but Clarke knew her mother stayed in touch. She couldn’t figure out where this was going, though. “Sure,” she answered and shot her mother a questioning glance.

“She’s pregnant,” Abby announced. “She’s due in about six months and she’s gonna have to do this all by herself for now, her old boyfriend had to leave.”

“Oh, wow, that’s a lot,” Clarke said, shaking her head. “Is the guy ever coming back?”

Abby huffed a soft snort. “In about ten-to-twenty years. He’s in jail for armed robbery,” she explained dryly. Then, she placed her hand over Clarke’s, wrapped around the arm rest, and squeezed gently. “Which is why I’m going to move over there, to help her out. I think we can help each other.”

Clarke’s head snapped sideways sharply, the hand holding the mug landing heavily on the side table, porcelain scraping against the wood.

“Mum,” she protested weakly at a loss of words. Although she’d moved to Chicago for college and never looked back, Clarke had not ever lived farther than an hour away from her mother in Arkadia. “Doesn’t she live in California?”

Her throat closed up at the thought. Twice in her life, Clarke had come face to face with the possibility of losing her mother and even though a move half-way across the country was hardly the same thing, Clarke realised she wasn’t quite ready for that either.

“Sacramento, yes,” Abby nodded. “She’s got a nice, comfortable place there, the three of us will have plenty of space.”

“Mum, if this is about Bellamy moving in, I’m sure he’d understand, if—“

Abby didn’t let her finish. She took her hand off the arm rest and wrapped it in both of hers for a moment, before replacing it between the two of them.

“Honey, he won’t need to understand anything because you won’t ask him not to move in,” Abby insisted and shook her head when Clarke opened her mouth to protest.

“You’ve been incredible, those last three months, and I’m very grateful but darling, I can’t keep monopolising your life like that, not when I’m capable of going back to my own. It’s why offered to help her out.” Abby’s features softened and in the corner of her eye, Clarke could see her mother smile.

“You deserve to start your own life, _with_ Bellamy.”

Clarke swallowed, not sure how to respond.

Despite her confidence when she first introduced the two together, she was a little worried about her mother’s reaction to finding out that Clarke had been hiding a boyfriend for long enough that their relationship had become so serious. But her mother surprised her. Evidently, all that she cared about was the her daughter seemed happier with Bellamy’s arm her that Abby had seen her in a long time.

“Besides,” Abby continued, “there really isn’t anything left for me in Arkadia, only painful memories,” she said, rubbing the side of her knee absentmindedly, where one of the bigger scars were located.

Clarke’s eyes followed the movement of Abby’s fingers and while her mother stared off to the distance for a moment, Clarke knew exactly what she was thinking of.

It wasn’t long before Russell had been caught. He didn’t have a proper escape plan, causing the accident on an impulse when Abby started asking too many questions and eventually, the cops found him and he admitted that the theory Miller had come up with shortly after the crash was more or less correct.

It took quite a toll on Abby, to find out that the man she was not only falling for but also fiercely defending from her own daughter and (as it turned out) also some of her friends, was nothing more than a thief and a liar. All thing considered, Clarke probably should’ve expected that she’d want to leave Arkadia and start fresh somewhere else.

As if sensing the change in Clarke’s mood, Abby smiled a little wider and patter her daughter’s forearm lightly.

“You know, I feel much better about moving, knowing that you’ll be here with someone who loves you so much,” she said and a fierce blush spread all over Clarke’s face and neck, pulling a chuckle out of her mother.

“He’s—,” Clarke started but her voice died down, as she wasn’t sure how to describe him.

 _Boyfriend_ didn’t even begin to cover it. Even calling him _the love of her life_ didn’t seem to do him enough justice. Finally, she settled on the simplest explanation, the truth.

“He’s my soulmate,” she said and an immeasurable weight seemed to have dropped off of her shoulders. It felt good to finally say that to someone, even her sceptical mother, who was the one to implant her own lack of belief into her daughter.

Abby might never understand that truer words have never been spoken but still, Clarke wanted her to know.

Her mother smiled again, sweetly, and put her own mug down. She stood up from her chair, reaching for her crutches.

“I’m going to turn in,” she announced and leaned over to press a gentle kiss against Clarke’s temple.

Her mother limped away, leaving Clarke behind to think it all through. She wasn’t alone for long though.

“Well, that was very sweet,” Bellamy stated, appearing at her side. He sat down on the chair that Abby had vacated and immediately took her hand in his. He pressed a kiss over each of her knuckles.

Clarke sent him a faux-disapproving glare, in lieu of reminding him that they were supposed to limit their drop-byes.

“Couldn’t stay away, huh?” she muttered under her breath, careful not to be heard by her mother.

Bellamy grinned at her. “From you? Not for a moment.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked this! thank you so very much for reading. comments and kudos will be welcomed like manna ;-)  
> come and find me on tumblr @[carrieeve](https://carrieeve.tumblr.com).


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